Yamada Monogatari: To Break the Demon Gate

by Richard Parks

  “Phew. I hope I do not meet many more like that.”

  My wish was not granted. In an alleyway an entire family of ghost cats hissed and spat at each other. Again, as I passed they scattered, but when I was past I could hear them again, snarling. A bent old monk in a straw hat and tattered kesa hobbled past me. He had no face. I might have dared question him, except that no face meant no eyes to see or mouth to speak, as well; plus he seemed in a great hurry, tottering along as quickly as his memory of arthritic old legs would carry him. I paused and watched him totter away.

  When I turned around, the road was blocked by ghosts. They flowed toward me like a spring torrent. I had never seen such a massing of spirits in my life, and in so many different manifestations. They rolled toward me like a vast spiritual tide, and to my horror I realized I was about to be swept away.

  “Yamada-san, put this on!”

  I recognized Kenji’s voice from behind before I spotted him, running to catch up with me. He dangled a talisman of some sort on a dirty silken string. I hurriedly placed it around my neck just as the wave of ghosts crested over us. For a moment I could see nothing but black shadows with glowing red eyes that somehow never quite touched me. I was well aware that ghosts, while not normally substantial, could easily cause physical harm if angered or determined to do so.

  “I would say we should get off the street,” Kenji said, “but I doubt if anyplace else would be much better.”

  “What has set them off, do you know? And for that matter, what are you doing here?”

  “I followed you,” Kenji admitted. “Since you wouldn’t heed my advice about bringing a friend.”

  “I suppose a reprobate mendicant is better than nothing, especially considering what is happening now. I don’t think Kanemore would have been much help.” I examined the talisman on the end of the cord but, like most of Kenji’s concoctions, it was little more than a piece of paper tied into a knot. I had no idea what was written on it and doubtless wouldn’t have understood the spiritual resonances if I did. “What is this, anyway?”

  “A simple ward,” Kenji said. “Of the sort I always wear. It makes contact unpleasant for the spirits, so they’re avoiding us, but it wouldn’t stop a determined attack.”

  I frowned. “You mean this isn’t one?”

  Kenji sighed. “Take a good look around you, Lord Yamada. Do you really think so?”

  Actually I did not, but couldn’t immediately fathom what this “stampede” was all about otherwise. Seita notwithstanding, most ghosts tended to be elusive creatures and only manifested now and then, and for reasons or compulsions of their own. Besides there being so many, I had never seen them behave in this manner before. Behind the relative security of Kenji’s ward, I took a closer look at the horde of ghosts moving through the streets of Kyoto as they flowed around Kenji and me as if we were two rocks in a river. Now I was amazed I hadn’t noticed the common thread before now.

  “You’re right, Kenji-san. They’re not attacking, they’re running! From what?”

  Kenji scowled. “I wish I could answer that. There’s a pall over the city that makes me want to run, too, if only I knew what direction was ‘away.’ Ah!”

  “What is it?”

  He grinned. “Isn’t it obvious? If you want to find the source of a river, you row against the current. Follow me!”

  Now Kenji led the way into the very crest of the wave with me close behind. I understood his reasoning and could find no flaw in it as we worked our way back through the tidal wave of ghosts toward the origin of their panic. That did not mean I was very keen on the idea. I was far from certain I wanted to meet anything that could put such a blind terror into all the ghosts of Kyoto.

  I wasn’t sure how far we had come. It was dark, and landmarks were hard to spot. I did know we were heading in a northeastern direction.

  “The Demon Gate?” I gasped out, sparing no more breath than I had to. I needed the rest for running.

  “Hard to say,” Kenji replied. “Possible, or a coincidence.”

  Definitely possible and hardly a coincidence, if so; Kenji knew that as well as I did. The northeastern gate of the city was the preferred method for evil spirits and their ilk to enter ever since the founding of the city. That was the reason the Ryakaku-ji complex had been built in the first place, to defend that entrance. But it didn’t seem to be having much deterrent effect at the moment.

  Kenji stopped so suddenly I had gone three paces beyond him before I even noticed, and as many again before I could stop. Ahead of me, the ghosts were disappearing.

  “What in all the hells . . . ?” I heard him mutter.

  Kenji didn’t come forward. I didn’t give him time. I quickly backed away to where he stood staring, and once there I pretty much did the same. The ghosts ahead of us were disappearing, being swallowed by, so far as we could see, nothing. Or rather, darkness. This darkness was not nothing, or perhaps it was exactly that; nothing in its purest form. Not the spiritual non-attachment, the bliss that the temple priests were always on about, but rather a nothing that could not tolerate anything of a real or separate nature within its sphere. A devouring sort of nothing. An extremely hungry sort of nothing.

  I tried to shake off the feeling of dread that had crept over me. Perhaps I was seeing more than was actually in front of me, but I could not help the way the thing made me feel.

  “It’s there,” Kenji said. “Whatever it is, that’s it, and it’s coming this way.”

  I already knew that. What I didn’t know was if there was a chance in the world that we, now that we had been so foolish as to find the thing, could outrun it.

  “It’s alive, isn’t it? Your senses are better than mine in this realm; do you not sense a presence within that darkness?”

  “Yes,” Kenji said. “Perhaps we should go.”

  I thought the same, but then I noticed the spirits on the edge of the nothing were now moving away from it, or rather escaping. The darkness was not moving, and I would have sworn by any god or scripture you’d care to name that just moments before it had been moving, and swiftly.

  “It has stopped,” I said. “See for yourself.”

  “Fortunately for us,” Kenji said. “I’ve seen enough.”

  “I haven’t.”

  I didn’t blame Kenji in the least, but now I had been foolish enough to find the source of the ghosts’ terror, I wasn’t going to be so foolish as to abandon my position without learning as much as I could. I only hoped the price would not be so high as my life.

  “Don’t be a fool, Lord Yamada. While I’m rather proud of the quality of my wards and talismans, I tell you bluntly: the best I could make probably would not even slow that thing down.”

  “How do you know,” I asked, “if you don’t know what it is?”

  “I know what it isn’t,” he said. “It is not a man or a woman. For all I know, it is a ghost that devours other ghosts. Perhaps the spirit of an ogre or worse.”

  “Worse,” I said. “You and I have already known an ogre’s ghost, and it was nowhere near as malevolent as this. I’m going closer.”

  Despite my brave words, it took several long moments and as many deep calming breaths before I could force myself to do as much as take a step. I doubt the shadow of a post moved any slower than I did as I slipped closer and closer to the mass of darkness.

  Now that I was closer, I noticed some things that had been invisible from my former position. While there was still no discernible shape to the blackness, I did realize it wasn’t totally black. There were graduations of nothingness, like the transforming aspects of a cloud as it flies across the face of the sun. Here and there a flash of light, very faint, almost like a firefly in a fog. The one thing that did not change was the feeling of total malevolence that came over me whenever I looked at the thing. There came a point, when I was perhaps no more than fifteen paces from the wall of darkness in front of me, I realized nothing on heaven or earth or beyond could compel me to take one more step in the
thing’s direction.

  When Kenji’s hand touched my shoulder I had my tachi a good hand’s breadth out of its scabbard before I realized he was there. I let out a breath and sheathed the weapon again.

  “Surprising a frightened man is a good way to lose your head. I thought you stayed behind.”

  “And let you be a fool by yourself? Where’s the humor in that?” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were trained on the darkness. “Incredible.”

  I looked around, but my immediate surroundings were unfamiliar. “Where are we? I know we were traveling eastward and crossed the river at some point, but this place is not familiar.”

  “A bit south of the Demon Gate,” Kenji said. “A loose organization of mendicant priests operates a hostel just across the street.”

  I could see it now. I could see a great deal more. “The darkness is withdrawing to the east.”

  “Yes,” Kenji said a bit distractedly. He was chewing his lower lip and his mind was plainly elsewhere.

  I think I knew the reason. My own feelings at that point were difficult to describe. I knew the darkness was present; I was well aware of this after we had caught up to it, saw the ghosts devoured, felt the hatred and malevolence it—barely—contained. But despite my fear and wonder at the scale and nature of the thing, I don’t think I fully appreciated just what a blight the thing had been on my surroundings until it was gone. I felt I could see and breathe and think again, whereas before all three traits had seemed arguable.

  A man staggered out through the gate of a small family compound and into the street, his eyes wild. Most decent folk kept off the streets after dark when demons and ghosts were felt to be at their most powerful and present, which is why I had not been surprised that Kenji and I had been just about the only non-spirits about during the incident. What could have possessed this man to leave his home now?

  For a moment I don’t think he really saw either Kenji or myself, but then his eyes came back into focus.

  “H-help, sirs, please,” he finally said. “My poor wife . . . ”

  I hurried to his side with Kenji close behind. “Is the lady ill? My friend is a priest,” I said. I didn’t bother to mention he wasn’t exactly a pious priest or a very good one, outside of his specialty. This did not seem like the time. “Perhaps we can be of assistance?”

  The increasingly frantic man led us into his home. There was just the one room, and still lying twisted in their bedding was the body of an older woman. That she was dead was obvious from the beginning. The man put his hands together and wailed while Kenji slowly kneeled and began chanting a sutra. Kenji’s droning voice finally calmed the man down enough for me to try and get a coherent sentence out of him.

  “I am sorry for your wife. What happened?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. She was struggling, as if something gripped her. I saw nothing, I asked her how I could help, what I could do . . . ”

  I’m not sure why it took me so long to understand what had just happened. Perhaps I was getting old, or, at least, older than my years.

  “You saw nothing?”

  “Nothing,” he said. “Is she . . . ?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Five other men arrived as we spoke and hesitated at the doorway, but Kenji, who obviously knew them, waved them inside. Mendicants from their garb, from the hostel Kenji had mentioned, no doubt called by the commotion. Two of them joined in with Kenji and chanted the sutra while another, obviously unconcerned with ritual purity, gently straightened the old woman’s limbs and composed the body. The others took the old man from me, wrapped him in a cloak, and made him drink a cup of saké. I considered this probably the best course, at least as far as the bereaved man was concerned. I did not think I would learn any more than I already had from him that night.

  Kenji left the chanting priests and joined me by the door. “My brothers and I will do what is needed tonight,” he said. “Munikata-san can contact the priests at Senrin-ji tomorrow for the formal arrangements.”

  “You know this man?” I asked.

  “He’s a weaver. I know most of the folk near here,” Kenji said simply. “My second home, aside from the Demon Gate. I’ve spent many of the colder nights in the hostel across the street.”

  “You may be a scoundrel, but you’re also a fully ordained priest,” I pointed out. “Should you be associating with these men?”

  “As opposed to, say, the Chief Priest at Senrin-ji? Or perhaps His Immanence, Dai-wu of Enryaku-ji?”

  I remembered the old man at Taira no Kei’s funeral rites. “I see your point.”

  Kenji sighed. “Go home, Lord Yamada. The danger, whatever it was, has passed for the moment. This is priest’s work now. I will join you as planned tomorrow.”

  I took my leave then, but not before I took a closer look at the body as I paid my respects. The faint bluish pallor and the contortion of the limbs before the mendicant had straightened them, all told me plainly that whatever had killed Taira no Kei had killed this woman as well, and in the same manner. The only difference was that, this time, someone saw it happen.

  And saw absolutely nothing.

  The following morning just after sunrise, I left a message for Prince Kanemore with one of the guards at the Imperial Compound’s eastern gate.

  The sun was only a little more on its way toward its zenith when Prince Kanemore joined me on the grounds of the Gion Shrine. I had rather hoped that Lady Snow would be entertaining at the same spot where she had been a couple of days ago. Not only could I have used the entertainment, but I would also have been grateful for the distraction. Yet that was not to be. Fortunately, the crowds were not heavy, and it was possible to find a quiet place to sit and talk, out of earshot of passersby. I quickly related the events of the previous day, save only my conversation with Lady Snow; I was not yet certain how much of that I either needed or wanted to share.

  “A ghost and yet not a ghost,” Kanemore said thoughtfully. “This does not put my mind at ease.”

  I grunted. “Nor should it. A spirit with the power to kill, apparently at whim, is not something to be treated lightly. Did you notice anything like this the night of the attack on Kei?”

  “I’m afraid not. I was asleep at the time, as was nearly everyone except, one hopes, the guards. I will find out who was on duty that night and talk to them. So, do you attach any significance to the fact that the creature absorbs other spirits it encounters?” Kanemore asked.

  “I’ve never seen that before,” I said. “Whether it draws its strength from those spirits or can overwhelm them because it’s already so much stronger, I do not know. There is still too much I do not know.”

  “Surely, if Takahito was the target, he would have been attacked before now. Yet if the attacks are random, it cannot be said that he—or indeed, anyone—is safe.”

  “True, and come to that I’m not convinced the attacks are random. I remember what Seita told me. The darkness has eyes. It has intent, perhaps unfathomable as yet, but present. Do me one favor, if you will. Question the guards of each gate as a separate group from those of the other gates.”

  “Certainly, but why?”

  “For my own curiosity, if nothing else. Their differing perspectives might give us some understanding that we do not as yet have.”

  “I’ll be certain to do so,” Kanemore said. “Is there anything else you require?”

  I hesitated. “Prince Kanemore, there are a few more things I want to ask you, but they have little to do with our current business.”

  He frowned. “Oh? Such as?”

  “How much do you remember from your first campaigns in the north?”

  Prince Kanemore smiled a little wistfully. “I remember it mostly as a grand adventure. After all, I was only fourteen or so at the time. While those early conflicts were little more than scouting expeditions compared to today, I think my mother thought they would cure my martial interests.”

  “We can see how well that worked,” I said d
ryly.

  He smiled again. “Just so. But I don’t think my boyhood outings are what you’re really interested in.”

  “I was wondering about my father.”

  “I’m rather surprised you hadn’t asked about this before now,” Kanemore said.

  “I didn’t think there was much point before now,” I said, “and I’m not sure that this isn’t still the case. Yet I must ask.”

  Kanemore sighed. “There isn’t much I can tell you. I was certainly not privy to the councils of Lord Sentaro and my uncle, Prince Yoritomi. My duties at the time consisted mainly of not getting myself killed and staying out from under foot. There were documents, I was told, but I never saw them.”

  I frowned. “Lord Sentaro was there?”

  “As a representative of the Court; he was certainly no field commander, but yes, he was there. The actual incident of your father’s arrest and execution happened when I was away from the camp; I had been part of the honor guard for a barbarian king Lord Sentaro was negotiating with. Naturally, those negotiations ceased in acrimony after your father’s death.”

  “What about Fujiwara no Kiyoshi? Were you present when he fell?”

  Kanemore sighed. “No, it also happened while I was away. His detachment surprised a barbarian raiding party crossing the border. The enemy was routed, but Kiyoshi was killed.”

  I looked up. “He was the only one?”

  Kanemore frowned. “Yes, I believe so.”

  I thought about this. “As a strategist with the hindsight of the last seventeen years, what do you make of that early campaign?”